


Suits and Cloaks

by VespidaeQueen



Category: Avengers (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VespidaeQueen/pseuds/VespidaeQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A synthezoid wearing a swimsuit is an odd thing to get used to, even when one is on vacation with their wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suits and Cloaks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedSummerRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSummerRose/gifts).



They’ve rented a beach cottage for the week. A cottage on the beach for a week means rest and relaxation and - hopefully - not being attacked or called upon to do anything super-hero-like for the entirety of their vacation.

A week at the beach also means swimming suits, which Vision had apparently not accounted for when Wanda suggested the trip.

“Vision, dear, come out. I’m sure you look _fine_ ,” Wanda says from the main room.

Vision is very skeptical about himself looking _fine._ The swimtrunks he is wearing are apparently ‘designer’, or so Janet’s note in the box they came in tells him, and while he generally trusts that she knows what she’s talking about when it comes to fashion, even though these are a very tasteful color and do not clash terribly with his skin, the thought of walking outside in these and not his green suit is...disconcerting.

He finally steps out into the main room.

“I do not think I am made for swimtrunks,” he says. Wanda’s eyebrows have risen dramatically, and he is fairly certain that wearing this garment is a terrible idea.

“Oh, love,” she says, stepping forward. “You’re not supposed to wear them with your cloak, you know.”

His throat works in an approximation of swallowing nervously. “I do not feel comfortable without it,” he says as her fingers smooth over the front of the collar.

“You look _fine_ , Vision,” she says, and her fingers tug at the clasp of his cloak until it comes undone. Her hands hold it in place on his shoulders.

“Not as good as you.” Which is very much the truth; the suit she wears is cut very much like her normal suit, but it is in a deep wine color. There is a flimsy piece of material tied around her hips, but no cloak changes the look drastically.

Speaking of cloaks...

Wanda’s hands slip from his shoulders to his bare chest, and his cloak slides away to pool on the floor. “There,” she tells him with a smile, and she looks down. ““That’s much better, don’t you think?””

He finds his gaze drawn to the way her eyelashes make little shadows over her skin.

When she looks up again, her lips are slightly parted. The way she is looking at him, he expects her to kiss him - but instead, she slides her hands lower until her fingertips are hooked in the top of his swimsuit.

“I thought the intent was for me to wear these out,” he says, and Wanda’s smile grows.

“Well, we do not have to go out _quite_ yet.”

There is a couch in the room, not too far behind him. He finds himself walking backwards towards it, Wanda pushing him along. His bare feet tangle in his cloak and he nearly trips, catches himself, and then falls anyway, the two of them tumbling to the ground. He catches her, and she braces herself above him with one hand on the ground, the other splayed over his hip.

He tries to lean up for a kiss, but Wanda evades him, dropping kisses across his collarbone instead. He settles for pulling the pins out of her hair, letting it to drop over her shoulders.

Wanda looks up at him, her face framed by the mass of tangled curls. She smiles, and her teeth drag over her bottom lip, and she looks _beautiful_. Vision feels a jump in his chest, in his stomach.

And then Wanda’s head dips back down and her lips move over the smooth surface of his chest, over his stomach, following the path of those little reactions. Her fingers hook again in the top of his swimtrunks and tug. And then her lips are on the skin no longer covered by material, trailing kisses over his hipbone. He may be synthetic, but his body reacts as though it were organic when her tongue follows her lips, and his hips arch to help her tug the suit off.

 _Well,_ he thinks, _I suppose we aren’t going out._

He is entirely all right with that.

 


End file.
